


i'd save every day 'till eternity passes away (just to spend them with you)

by ConiumMaculatum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, M/M, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Ron Weasley-centric, Seer Ron Weasley, mostly - Freeform, ron just loves harry so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConiumMaculatum/pseuds/ConiumMaculatum
Summary: Ron has known since he was 14 that Harry won’t survive the war. He doesn’t know how it’ll happen, or when, or what will come after, but he wakes one morning in the summer between 3rd and 4th year with a lead weight in the pit of his stomach and Harry’s name on his lips and heknows.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley
Comments: 22
Kudos: 525





	i'd save every day 'till eternity passes away (just to spend them with you)

**Author's Note:**

> JKR is a steaming trashpile of a human being, but I enjoy these soft boys maybe a little too much.

Ron has known since he was 14 that Harry won’t survive the war. He doesn’t know how it’ll happen, or when, or what will come after, but he wakes one morning in the summer between 3rd and 4th year with a lead weight in the pit of his stomach and Harry’s name on his lips and he _knows_. He’s _known_ other things before, but none quite as horrible as the absolute certainty that his best friend is going to die. His father tells him that day that they’ve got tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and he all but insists they take Harry. The dread still pooled in his belly urges him to make the most of whatever time Harry has left.

He thinks those few nights at the Burrow and in the tent are some of the hardest nights of his life. Every night he slips himself into Harry’s cot as soon as he thinks Harry is probably asleep, curling himself protectively around his friend. He’s never been so grateful to be tall as he is with Harry tucked against his chest, framed by his long limbs. If Harry finds this odd, he mercifully doesn’t say so. Ron can’t sleep without the tactile proof that Harry is there, with him, _alive_.

It’s a little better once they get to Hogwarts, at least at first. Ron keeps up his nightly ritual, now careful not to disturb the other boys in the dorm. Harry continues not to say anything, although his new habit of rolling over and pressing his face against Ron’s chest and tangling their legs together is proof enough that he’s never as asleep as Ron thinks.

Of course, the peace can’t last. Harry’s name jumps out of the Goblet of Fire and all of a sudden Ron can’t breathe. His first coherent thought is one of pure anxiety. _This is where he dies, all because he was stupid enough to get his name in the goblet._ He doesn’t think he’s ever been so angry at Harry. He doesn’t understand how his friend could be so careless with his own life. Does he not know how precious he is? So Ron shouts at him—lets Harry believe that he’s just jealous, because really, how do you tell your best friend that he’s going to die and that when he does some part of you will die too—and he curses himself later for breaking their friendship so thoroughly. Every time he sees Harry's mournful green eyes pretend not to notice him from across a classroom or down the Gryffindor table, Ron considers swallowing his pride and making things right. Every time, a mean little voice in the back of Ron's mind tells him it's probably better that he distances himself now. It’ll probably save him some heartache.

It takes seeing Harry nearly incinerated by a dragon for Ron to pull his head out of his arse. His apology is stilted and awkward, but the way Harry's shoulders slacken and the tense crinkles leave the corners of his eyes and a grin spreads across Harry's mouth makes Ron wish he'd done it much sooner. That night sees them curled together in Ron's bed this time, and something loosens in Ron's chest and he tells himself that he won't let Harry go again.

The Yule Ball is more or less a disaster. Ron barely even acknowledges his date once Harry manages to extract himself from his own, and Ron finds himself almost wishing he'd had the stones to just ask Harry to go with him instead of Padma Patil. He's not really sure when loving Harry turned in to _loving Harry_ , but he supposes he really should have seen it coming. Weasleys aren't exactly known for doing things by half. He spends most of the ball working up the courage to ask Harry to dance—and wondering where his supposed Gryffindor bravery took a holiday to—but he never gets the chance because his outrage at Hermione's treasonous choice of date comes to a head and suddenly nobody feels like dancing anymore. Harry sleeps with his back to Ron that night.

The second task comes on before he knows it. Ron does his best not to dwell on the emotions that come with the knowledge that he's the thing Harry would miss most. He's certain he shouldn't draw the kind of conclusions that his hopeful heart keeps throwing to the front of his mind as Professor McGonagall puts him under.

What feels like seconds later, Ron comes to with Harry's hand fisted in his shirt and the freezing water of the lake chilling him to the core and he doesn't even notice Gabrielle Delacour until they reach the dock. The blankets they receive and the warming charms on them don't warm Ron half as well as Harry who settles himself in Ron's lap as soon as Ron sits down. Harry presses his nose into Ron's neck and the shiver that runs up Ron’s spine isn't from the cold.

“I was so scared,” Harry murmurs, his cool lips brushing Ron's skin as he speaks. “The damn egg made it sound like you could die.”

Ron's heart skips a beat. Harry is clinging to Ron like a life preserver and his hands are shaking as they slide under the hem of Ron's soaking wet shirt to find another point of skin contact and Ron starts rubbing Harry's back in slow circles.

“Nah,” he says lightly, trying to cheer Harry as best he can. “Can't get rid of me that easily.”

Harry lets out a sound that's halfway between a laugh and a sob and the tension is broken. Hermione shoots Ron a look that suggests they'll be discussing this whole interaction later, but he does his best not to think about that prospect. Harry clings to him for the rest of the day, always keeping at least one hand on some part of Ron, and when they go to the dorm that night Harry dispenses with all pretense and just pulls Ron toward his bed.

“Y’know, you don't have to wait until you think I'm asleep,” Harry says softly once they're settled. “You can just—” He cuts off, apparently self-conscious. “Forget it.”

Ron cards his long fingers through Harry's increasingly shaggy hair and boldly drops a kiss to the top of his friend’s head. “Alright,” he says simply. He's past the point of caring what Dean, Seamus, and Neville think. Harry makes a little whoosh, like he'd been holding his breath, and pushes his hands up under the ratty vest top that Ron wears to bed in a mirror of his actions on the dock. Ron hums contentedly and for a moment he forgets that the boy in his arms is destined to die young.

The third task is the worst. Ron's in the stands—because where else would he be—wringing his hands and bouncing his leg and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming with the anxiety that's bubbling up in his chest. It's taking too long and it's impossible to see inside the endless maze and then Harry is down in front of the stands clutching what looks like a corpse and all Ron can feel is relief. Harry is alive, at least for now. Ron bolts down the stands to try to make it to Harry's side, but everything is happening so fast that before he knows it Harry is being escorted to the castle by Professor Moody.

Moody turns out to have been a Death Eater in disguise, Voldemort is back, and Cedric Diggory is dead, but Ron's only thought is “thank Merlin Harry's alive.”

* * *

Fifth year is hard for everyone, but it's worse for Harry. Half the school thinks he's a loon and the other half think he's some kind of messiah and Ron thinks the only time Harry feels like a person is when they're wrapped around one another in Harry's bed. The DA is keeping Harry focused, but Ron's the one keeping him sane.

Their relationship shifts one night midway through the first term, and Ron isn't sure what to make of it. Harry's sleep is fitful—as it often is—and tonight when Ron gently nudges his friend awake the motions aren't quite the same. Harry doesn't press his face to Ron's chest and level his breathing as he usually does. He looks at Ron's face, eyes wide and wild and swimming with tears he hasn't had a chance to shed, and puts a hand on Ron's cheek without thinking. He looks like he’s trying to commit every inch of Ron's face to memory.

Ron almost speaks—almost diffuses the tension between them—but he can't. Not when Harry is looking at him _like that_. Instead, he raises his own hand and closes it over Harry's. He runs his thumb across the fresh scars he finds on the back of Harry's hand and Harry's eyes slide closed as he heaves a sigh of relief. Their foreheads touch then, and Ron's gaze flicks briefly to Harry's mouth. They're breathing the same air now and it would be so easy to close that miniscule gap between their mouths but something stops Ron from taking the step.

“I dunno what I'd do without you,” Harry says, voice barely audible and rough with sleep. “I was a right mess last year when you weren't talking to me.”

Ron's stomach does a somersault. “Sorry, mate. Too bad for you, you're stuck with me now.”

Harry snorts and Ron is glad his eyes find Harry's mouth again, because he's treated to one of Harry's rare smiles. “I rather like the sound of that,” Harry says, and it takes all of Ron's willpower not to kiss him right there. He can't let himself fuck this up. Maybe it's selfish, but he wants to be with Harry right up to the end and he can't do that if he lets himself entertain the thought that he and Harry could be something other than what they are. Harry likes Cho, not Ron. Or at least Ron is fairly sure that Harry likes Cho.

Whether or not Harry likes Cho, something is different between Harry and Ron after that night. Ron catches Harry looking at him sometimes with an expression that Ron can't read. They sleep in even more tangled positions than before. Harry's hands are on him more and more during the day, until there's barely a moment when Harry isn't resting calloused fingertips on Ron's forearm or slinging an arm around Ron's waist or even just holding Ron's hand outright.

All hell breaks loose just before Christmas. Harry's nightmare is particularly awful one night, to the point that when Ron finally gets him awake he leans over the side of the bed and vomits before hoarsely declaring that Ron's dad has been attacked and they need to go to the headmaster.

Harry obviously expects the experience to put distance between him and Ron, but Ron is too grateful that his dad and Harry are both more or less alright to let Harry push him away. They share a room at Grimmauld Place over the holidays and Ron's bed is left untouched. Ron is starting to get some dark circles to match Harry's, but he doesn't care. He'll stop sleeping altogether if it means he’s there when Harry wakes up in a cold sweat and then cries his heartbreakingly quiet tears until he falls back into a restless slumber.

In the spring, when Harry wakes from another nightmare and says Sirius has been captured, Ron doesn't even give Harry time to ask if he'll come along to the Ministry. Of course he’s going. He’ll follow Harry to the ends of the earth if it means the boy he loves doesn't have to die alone. He's not even sure if this will be it, but he's not willing to take the chance.

The battle at the Ministry is a clusterfuck, to put it mildly. Injuries abound—Ron himself has picked up a lovely new set of vine-like scars that run up his arms onto his torso, and there's even one that peeks out the collar of his tee shirt—but Harry is definitely the most fragile. Ron can't even imagine what Harry must be feeling. Sirius is dead, and being possessed by Voldemort can't be pleasant. Later that night he lets Harry cry into his shirt until all he can muster is dry, hiccuping sobs, muttering gentle reassurance as he rubs Harry's back, urging him to just let everything out.

* * *

Harry's obsession with Malfoy the next year makes Ron want to scream. Everything is about what Malfoy is up to, and Ron would almost think Harry was in love with the git if that wasn't so ridiculous. He takes comfort in the knowledge that Malfoy isn't the one holding Harry every night and Malfoy isn't the one that makes Harry's face light up and Malfoy isn't the one that Harry confides in. All of that is Ron’s, and he won't give it up for anything.

On his birthday, Ron does something incredibly stupid. He finds a box of chocolate cauldrons that he thinks are a birthday gift and when he eats them he can't think of anything but how much he loves Romilda Vane. He asks Harry to take him to her, because he _needs_ her, and Harry agrees but for some reason they go to Professor Slughorn instead. Slughorn gives Ron something to drink and as soon as it hits his stomach he feels like an idiot.

Slughorn opens some bottle of alcohol he'd gotten from the headmaster and gives some to Ron to take the edge off his humiliation and everything happens so fast that before he knows it Harry is kneeling over Ron and shoving a beazor down his throat and the look on Harry's face is sheer terror.

“Hey, I'm alright,” Ron croaks once he has his wits about him, patting Harry's cheek in a way he hopes is comforting. Harry doesn't look convinced until he drags Ron to the Hospital Wing and Madame Pomfrey gives him a clean bill of health. Harry sleeps with his ear pressed to Ron's chest for the next week, right over the spot where Ron's heart would be.

By the end of term, Harry's theory about Malfoy is proven true. Dumbledore is dead by Snape's hands, and Harry has some top secret mission, and Ron will be damned if Harry thinks he's going to do it alone.

* * *

Hedwig dies on the way to the Burrow that summer and so does Moody, and Ron and Harry lie in Ron's cramped bed that night and mourn the loss of whatever innocence they may have had left. Harry has always looked tired, but he's sporting a look of resignation that night that Ron has never seen.

Not long after, Harry tries to bolt in the middle of the night. Ron stops him. He says everything he can think of to get Harry to stay except for the one thing he wants to say, and finally Harry relents. He and Ron and Hermione make sure they're ready to run at a moment’s notice.

The moment is Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Everything is chaos and they make it to Grimmauld Place more or less unharmed. They discover the location of the locket and manage to get it, but they lose their safe haven in the process and Ron gets splinched as they apparate away. Harry sleeps in Ron's bunk that night, cautious and shaky in the face of Ron's mangled shoulder, and the next day while Harry is taking his watch Hermione asks what she's wanted to ask since the second task.

“You love him, don't you?”

Ron looks at her for a moment before nodding and looking at the floor. “Yeah, I really do,” he says hoarsely. Hermione's reply surprises him.

“Why don't you tell _him_ that?”

Ron drags his fingers through his hair and lets out a frustrated puff of air. She doesn't understand. “It won't do any good. It doesn't matter.”

Hermione fixes Ron with a look of pure pity and he almost resents her for it. “Oh Ron, of course it matters. He—” She cuts off as the tent flap rustles and Harry comes inside. Ron doesn't dare hope the end of her sentence was “loves you too.”

He never gets to find out. Ron, tired and fed up and overly influenced by the horcrux around his neck, picks a fight that ends with him running away. He regrets it the minute he’s gone, but by the time he escapes the Snatchers he has no way of finding Harry and Hermione again. He ends up at Bill and Fleur’s, and he spends every minute wondering if Harry's died yet. He wonders if the universe will let him know.

Not long after Christmas the Deluminator solves his problem. He makes it to the forest just in time to haul Harry and the Sword of Gryffindor out of a frozen pond, and Harry lets him do the honors of killing the horcrux that's tormented him so. Harry forgives him on the spot, though he's not sure he deserves it. It takes Hermione a little longer.

At Shell Cottage, after Harry has buried Dobby and everyone alive has been tended to, Harry all but drags Ron to the first empty bed they can find and they cling to one another like they each think the other will disappear. Harry’s gentle fingertips trace the scars that wrap around one of Ron's forearms and when he speaks Ron almost doesn't hear him.

“You should go be with Hermione,” he says. “I'm being selfish, keeping you to myself all the time.”

Ron shakes his head. Last he'd checked, Hermione had passed out on the settee with Luna, so he doesn't feel the least bit guilty replying, “There's nowhere else I'd rather be right now.”

At Hogwarts, after they've found the last few horcruxes and dispatched them, when Harry tells them he’s going to meet Voldemort alone, Ron knows. This is where Harry dies.

“Wait,” Ron says, catching Harry's arm as he chokes back tears. “I need to— You have to know.”

Harry's eyes search Ron's, unsure of what's about to be said.

“Harry, I—” He almost can't get the words out, choosing instead to pull Harry closer. He puts a hand on Harry's cheek and tugs him into a bruising kiss that leaves them both breathless when they finally break apart.

“Me too,” Harry says, pulling Ron down for another desperate kiss. They both know this is pointless, but Ron can't bear the thought of Harry dying without knowing, and he finds himself wishing he'd done this two and a half years ago when Harry's lips were an inch from his own and they still had years to go before they reached this end.

When they break apart this time, Harry's expression is determined and Ron's heart breaks as he watches his best friend walk toward the forest, knowing Harry won't come back out.

The sight of Harry's limp body in Hagrid’s arms is more than Ron can bear. They've all lost so much already. Ron is numb, fingertips buzzing in a way they never have before, as he prepares to fight to the death for the fate of the wizarding world. Before he can act, though, a gasp ripples through the crowd and suddenly Harry is alive in front of them and Ron sags with relief. He doesn't know how or why, but Harry is alive.

He gets the story later in the Great Hall when the pair of them are wrapped in blankets and Harry is in Ron's lap, leaning against his broad chest, both of them coated in the grime of battle. It sounds too good to be true, but Ron isn't about to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth. Harry may have died, but he's here now and that's enough.


End file.
